


The Wind Will Speak of You

by Gallicenae



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:52:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4377863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallicenae/pseuds/Gallicenae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theoden right before the Battle of the Pelennor Fields.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tolkien owns LotR.

He sat tall astride his horse, his armor gleaming in the rising sun, while he cast a hard stare out across the warming plains to capture the enemy's line in his sight. It would end here, no longer would they be pushed back into hiding from the glory that was their right by birth.

They would shake the foundations of their own ancestry to revive the prestige of old graced to their names. It was more than a fight for life or death, for he knew they would live on in the rocky knolls and the strong winds that battered over his land. It was far more than fighting from desperation; there had been no such concept in his mind from the moment he drew first breath. He was a proud king and no enemy would deny him the tales which would be forever engraved upon the hearts of heroes made this day.

The metal of his sword promised life as it raised to blind the sun. There were none on that field, neither friend nor foe, whose mind remained free thereafter of the man and horse as one, bearing down in a glorious triumph to the victory they would claim for their people.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arwen mourning Aragorn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tolkien owns LotR.

The wind had brushed over his features, taking his gentle spirit away with its passing touch. Had she been immortal, she would have held him always. The lush fabric at her side had been distraught with her grief, strewn about her in the moment she had known would be the conclusion of his fate.

Their thrones were empty, the stark marble crying out for its noble king. Gondor's crown on the peaked throne was the only vestige left of the man who once sat so proudly. The scent of leaves still hung in the air from that day, as it whispered about the halls of a man who had been mortal before he'd been king.


End file.
